


The Mountain Pass

by cuetlaxcoyotl



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: ADVENTURE!, Canon-Typical Violence, Epistolary, Gen, Heresy, Inaccurate depictions of Spain, I’m very sorry, Language Barrier, Modern Girl in Middle Earth, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Canon, WIP, better let’s just imagine it is alternate universe Spain, hobbits are a gift to the world, minor original character death (mentioned), misuse of Westron, unrealistic depictions of travel, with apologies to the catholic people
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-05-15 17:12:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19300159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuetlaxcoyotl/pseuds/cuetlaxcoyotl
Summary: Eos had started preparations for that journey a year before it started: the research, the time, the founds, the gear. She had a dream, new but well broken in boots and a month to reach Santiago de Compostela. She didn’t mean to get so lost and travel so far as a consequence. An epistolary version on the Modern Girl in Middle Earth trope.





	1. Chapter 1

###  **Beyond and upwards.**

_The travel journal of Ms. Eos Medina, translated from the original Spanish and Westron into English, narrating her journey from her natal Mexico to Europe, the Shire and further to the East._

 

* * *

 

####  **Translator note:**

It is important for the reader to know that the author had not intended for her texts to be published and her informal way of writing reflects this. Later in the journal, she would refer to the texts as a series of ‘letters to herself’, highlighting the personal mature of her recollections, as certain passages may lack context evident to the author and unknow to the audience. Furthermore, some choice terms and words have been left in the original language to maintain the character and flavour of the text.

 

* * *

Orizaba, 9th October 2019

Dear (soon to be) Diario de Viaje[1]:

I’m finally doing it! After a year of preparations and saving only God knows how many paychecks to fund this trip. But it has been my dream to make this journey since I was in high school, and I’m finally doing it tomorrow.

Because I’m certainly counting my way starting from home, as the effort also started years ago, and not at the Pyrenees.

Anyways, I’m so excited I cannot sleep. But if I’m tired tomorrow it will only be a good thing because you know I get motion sickness and I wish to sleep the whole trip to the airport and then the whole flight. I’ve added to my phone a ridiculous amount of music I’m never going to listen and books I’m never going to read and shows I’m never going to watch because I always go back to the same old things, and I’ve prepared lots and lots of dramamine, in case the excitement keeps me awake tomorrow too.

The Friends are probably as excited as I am and have been demanding pictures. I just got a message from Cristy telling me she is coming to my house in the morning to see me off. She also wanted to go, you know, and I wish she could, but I understand her responsibilities.

She is probably more entitled than I to make this journey, and it certainly surprised her when I told her my plans, but as I told her, I believe I’m going to find or learn something in this journey. I’m not finally trying to find God as she joked; even if I’m going to visit the tomb of a saint this is not religious to me. On the other hand, it is certainly spiritual, as I’ve always known that I need to make this journey and prove something to myself.

I’m almost glad she isn’t coming with me, because I need to do this alone.

At the same time, it is scary and I want to have Cristy with me. I’m always braver and feel more capable when I’m with her.

This is starting to get too deep so I will make another attempt at sleeping.

Lots of Love,  
Eos

#####  *******

Toulouse, 11th October 2019

At the hotel, finally.

I forgot to pack my toothbrush and deodorant, so I had to go buy new ones.

Panicked at the thought I may have forgotten the cup as well, but it is safe among the toiletries. As much as I dread having to put it in a hostel restroom, I dread even more the thought of having to walk kilometres and kilometres wearing a pad.

I’m going to take a nap NOW. I’m tired and I don’t care for jetlag.

 

 

 

Now it is late and I regret the nap I took in the morning.

If I’m not going to sleep, I should use the time to write. Every time I try to take up journaling, I end up never writing anything, so I’ll try to write whenever I can, whatever I can, no matter how stupid it seems to me at the moment. I quitted very quickly back when I was still at the cruise, and now I regret it.

So:

Dear Diario de Viaje,

Yesterday before I left, ironically, my mom gave me a Saint Benedict Medal and Cristy her priced Edward Elric[2] enamel key-charm.

I would have expected Cristy to be the one to give me the medal, not that my mom would have given me an Edward Elric charm.

Mom said that it felt off to send me on a pilgrimage without any symbol of faith for protection, so she asked to my uncle to ask to get the medal blessed. I may be too heretic to be in his patronage, maybe I’m even against his patronage, but I still feel a bit safer with it.

Cristy said that Ed is the perfect companion for a long journey, and I suppose that is true, and his image would also be helpful for important exams and invasive medical procedures.

The flight was ok. I mean, as always, the airline had me register the luggage way too early before departure, so I had to wait forever at the airport. The flight was very long, but I once had to spend 24 hours on board a bus, so just 10 was nothing, and I was worried I would miss my connexion because it was the first time I travelled with connecting fights, but it also went well. As predicted, I re-read Good Omens instead of picking a new book.

I didn’t had problems to reach the hotel, either, because I still remember French.

I’m so thankful I also took French at Uni. I’m just very thankful I choose to study languages, even if I struggled to find jobs near home and ended up at the cruise.

And now I even feel somewhat thankful for the cruise, because it allowed me to finance this trip, because it prepared me to long days on my feet, bad food and being far from home.

It is little things like that, that make it feel like my life organised itself in a way that would ease my way into this journey.

I only hope I do not get some kind of Paris Syndrome in the end.

Tomorrow I’ll travel to Pied-du-Port. I would have loved to start from Paris, but it would have added another month to the journey and to my expenses.

The plan is to arrive at PdP, get my Credencial[3] and stay a night so I can start walking early in the morning.

I’ll try to sleep now so I don’t lose my train tomorrow.

Lots of Love,  
Eos

#####  *******

Saint-Jean-Pied-du-Port, 12th October 2019

Dear Diario de Viaje,

Today was a productive day and I’m in high spirits.

I got my Credencial at the Bureau des Pélerins[4] and it says: “This document is only for those who wish to make the pilgrimage with a Christian sentiment, even if it is only with an attitude of search”.

It has also a blessing and a prayer.

It made me feel terribly guilty to use it to get cheap lodgings as the heretic heathen I am, so I found a church not very far down the same street as the Bureau, where I could offer a prayer for forgiveness for my trespassing.

Maybe it is more blasphemous this way, but. This journey is a ritual of a kind; people has been doing it, the same steps, the same road, for about a thousand years, and I’m now entrusting myself to this road, to this land and to these people. It is only correct that I follow the rules as much as I can and know to.

I also got to walk a bit around the town, which is super nice and I loved the street sings in Euskara, and instead of sending my pictures to at least 3 different chat groups plus my mom, I posted them on Instagram (and sent them to my mom). This way no one can complain.

But the important thing is that my little side quest for forgiveness appears to be successful, because once I got back to the hostel, I chatted a bit with Doña Marina, who is the mother of the owner, and she found me an old scallop shell to hang from my backpack. She said it was left behind at the hostel a long time ago, so it is fine if I take it with me. I feel like a real pilgrim now.

I also met some people and I think we’ll travel together for a bit. Isaac started the Camino at Paris, like I wanted, and has some previous experience backpacking and hiking, which is very cool. He doesn’t speak much French, and even less Spanish, and I believe that’s the reason he decided to talk to us in the first place.

On the other hand, there is Isabel. She is, in those weird movie-like coincidences, also from Veracruz, only she is from another city, and the weird bit is that we practically studied the same thing at the same university (she specialized in French instead of English). We have many friends in common, but we never saw each other before. Isabel, like me, has never done a trip like this before, so I think we are very lucky to have Isaac travel with us.

Tonight I’m doing my best to go to sleep early because we leave first thing in the morning! I’m so excited!

Lots of Love,  
Eos

#####  *******

Rocesvalles, 13th October 2019

Dear Diario de Viaje,

I’m disappointed? Regretful? I don’t know, I just feel off.

When we woke up this morning, the weather had changed dramatically from what was forecasted yesterday, Isabel wanted to wait until tomorrow, as the rain was supposed to stop in the afternoon or evening. Isaac insisted it was not that bad and wanted to continue as planned. I was discouraged by how often I could hear thunder in the distance and the clouds obscuring the mountain, but I didn’t want to wait because, what if the storm continues until tomorrow? So when a group of cyclists offered to share the cost to rent a van with them, I accepted.

But Isabel decided to stay and Isaac decided to go on his own. I fear it was my decision to go with the cyclists what made us part ways; I accepted too readily, after all.

It’s just. I didn’t feel safe walking in that storm, and at that moment I felt like I had to continue, because I should not let the first obstacle stop me at the first stage of the road.

Now I’m upset, that I missed my chance to cross the Pyrenees on foot like I wanted, and I worry for Isaac. A bit less for Isabel, who should be safe enough at the hostel still.

I just feel off. But maybe a bit of relief too?

Love,  
Eos

#####  *******

Pamplona, 15th October 2019

Dear Diario de Viaje

As I warned you, I’m not writing as much as I should. On one hand, it is Instagram’s fault (last night pictures where a hit thanks to the full moon). On the other, yesterday I was tired and still feeling out of sorts.

I parted ways with the cyclists at Roscesvalles, they were very nice to me and invited me to go with them, but I definitely want to do this on foot (and I don’t want to spend on a rental bike).

But.

It appears I’m not traveling alone after all.

I’ve found a puppy.

So I’m no longer upset.

He was in the middle of nowhere and he was all alone, and he is now mine. The vet says that he is about 6 weeks old, so he was probably abandoned. The vet started him on his vaccines and then helped me register him so I can keep him, because she fears he will not be adopted otherwise. I also have to feed him special puppy food to help him gain weight, which also added some weight to my pack, but I don’t care because I love my new baby.

Instagram and the Friends also love my new baby, more than they love me, probably.

My mom asked me how do I plan to get him back home, but that’s a problem for later!

I’m super motivated now!

Lots of love,  
Eos (and Tora)

#####  *******

Logroño, 19th October 2019

Dear DdV,

Cute as it was to see him do his puppy thing, I’ve had to start carrying Tora along swaddled in a sling. He not only gets tired supper quickly, but he also gets distracted with things (because he is a puppy) and it slows me down. Tree days ago we didn’t get on time into town and I had to camp for the first time. Thankfully I came prepared with a tent and sleeping bag or we could have spent a very cold night. Camping outside official campgrounds is kind of illegal (unless you have permission from the owner on the land, I believe) but, it’s like pirating music, I mean, they have to catch you in the act. What is completely forbidden, is to light fires, so it was very cold, indeed, to camp, regardless of the tent.

Tora sleep perfectly comfortable and warm.

Yesterday we had to pay for a more expensive room because the public hostel didn’t allow dogs inside (which is fair), and I would have had to leave Tora alone in a patio. I’ve checked online the public hostels ahead and most of them also have a no dogs rule, so I suppose we’ll have to camp more often and pay a more expensive hotel if the weather is bad. We had been lucky to be in dog friendly hostels the days before and didn’t realise.

I fear Tora is not going to be well house trained in these conditions, though.

At least he is growing up to be a pretty obedient, chill and well socialised dog. He is super popular, and people are always asking about him and to pet him, and he absolutely adores people back.

Tonight we are staying in one of these official campgrounds. It was about as expensive as staying in a hostel (but with no showers or washing machine), but on the upside we meet this couple, Fer and Ale, who are also camping with their dogs, Trapo and Canela.

All four were super nice to us, and Fer and Ale explained to me what I need to do to get Tora into a plane and out of the country.

I also think that they are a bit worried about me traveling alone. They heard from some other pilgrims that some stages back someone was mugged and they gave me their phone numbers in case I need help. I accepted, because they are locals and have a more resources, I think.

But, at the same time I don’t feel like I’m in danger, I mean, it is worrying and I know to don’t be complacent, and I’ve been nervous at times, because I’m alone, but I haven’t feel in danger, true danger, since Pied-du-Port.

Still, I’ll be careful.

Fer and Ale will be staying for a couple days at the next town with an aunt. They invited us along, but I don’t want to impose (or wait, I have a deadline, after all), if not, I would have liked to travel alongside them for a while.

I had not expected to meet so many great people on this journey, but I’m very glad. Sometimes I wonder if I would have been able to walk so far, if I were truly alone on this road.

Writing to you also helps, you know? I started because I wanted to have a-- register? of the things I did on the journey, but I’ve found Instagram is doing that part, now writing to you helps me put my thoughts in order, specially the things I can’t just post.

Lots of Love,  
Eos and Tora

#####  *******

Nájera, 20th October 2019

Dear DdV,

What I feared finally happened, but thankfully it happened in a place with running water and privacy. It wasn’t as traumatic as I feared, but I’ll be staying at hostels and hotels until it finishes.

At least it already happened. I keep count of my period with a tracking app, but it is not always regular, and it likes to keep me waiting until inopportune moments. And I was already sore from the road, so I didn’t notice the hips and legs pain, which is my more common symptom.

And maybe it is the road and Tora, but I been also doing well emotionally.

Still, I called my mom to cry a bit. I try to call home as often as possible, but I believe I learned to suppress my homesickness while at the cruise, so I don’t feel the need to talk to them all the time, and Instagram takes care of telling them where I am.

When I did return home from the cruise, though, I only wanted to spend time with my mom. And Cristy. And the Friends.

Maybe I am a bit emotional, after all. I suddenly started to cry again.

#####  *******

Hontanas, 25th October 2019

Dear DdV,

Excellent news! My period is finally over!

Also, technology is super awesome, and it has been helping me and Tora find places to sleep at night that aren’t that expensive. I don’t know how I would have fared if I had not the chance to shower every day.

But, also, today I got to help someone with my handy-dandy solar charger, perfect to charge phones in the middle of nowhere to call your vet for your horse troubles.

The poor baby stepped on a nail, so she is going to need xrays, probably.

I hope they are ok, after the phone charged a bit, Tora and I left before the vet arrived.

And my mom told me I was overpacking! I have used everything on my pack at least once by now!

I admit, though, that my backpack is heavy, and Tora just keeps getting heavier day after day, and that’s the reason I just get into town to clean, eat and sleep these days. I’ve written less, and I’ve posted less pictures too.

But, no matter how uncomfortable or tired I feel these days, I can’t help but feel grateful that I have many comforts I can carry with me, like my raincoat and sleeping bag, clean socks and underwear, my torch for the nights I have to camp, Tora.

I’m very lucky, aren’t I? That there are so many things helping me on this journey, things and people. It makes one feel small, but it is nice. I like to imagine this is what Tora feels when I carry him safe and snug and well feed in my jacket when it rains.

Lots of Love,  
Eos and Tora

#####  *******

Terradillos de los Templarios, 27th October 2019

Isaac is dead.

I caught up with the cyclists and they told me. They say Isaac was missing for days since he went on his own at Pied-du-Port, and was then found dead very far from the trail without his backpack and with no shoes. He was stabbed. The police believe he was mugged.

Fer and Ale told me. I didn’t think it would have been Isaac, or that he was dead.

What would have happened if me and Isabel had continued with him that day?

That ill feeling I had.

If the weather had not changed so abruptly, if the cyclists had not been at the same hostel. It would have been me, I’m sure. Or Isabel.

I know it.

Isabel and I are too alike, had one of us been on that mountain, it would have been one of us dead.

I hope Isabel is ok.

I’m so sorry for Isaac and his family.

I’m thankful to whoever is looking after me.

I think I’ll stay another day at Terradillos, my mind is not in a good place.

#####  *******

29th October 2019

Dear DdV,

I had a dream last night. Not one of my usual dreams, where I dream my daily life so vivid but aware I’m dreaming, until I wake up in the morning and forget the dream itself, I just remembering the barest details.

This time it was vivid, yes, but it remains very clear in my mind, and it was the kind of dream Dolly would have, the kind that would be used to give plot to a book, you know. I’ve thinking about it all day.

In my dream I was standing at the summit of Poyauhtécatl[5], I could feel the wind cutting into me because I was not dressed to climb a mountain, if I was dressed at all. My feet were cut and purpling and bleeding, but I could not feel them and I was standing firm; the wind pushed at me but could not topple me. I was breathless, dizzy and euphoric. When I looked down, I could see the crater and I could hear the earth underneath, like a heartbeat, and I knew the volcano was not sleeping, it was waiting.

Further away, around me, I could see all the mountains and hills and I also knew their names; Atlitzin, Tepoztécatl, Nauhcampatépetl, Matlalcueitl, Iztaccíhuatl, Popocatépetl, and more, no matter how far or how small. I could even see the little volcano Macuiltépetl in the middle of Isabel’s Xalapa, and the little hill in my hometown that my heart will always know as El Borrego.

Maybe there was even Isabel, standing on the boulder that crowns Nauhcampatépetl, looking at me, illuminated red by the broadcast antennas[6], but it may have been also me or someone else.

And then, in that moment I was sure that I would only need to take a step to the void, and I could be home. So I did, and I woke up.

After that I couldn’t get to sleep again, I felt to restless, eager, almost exited, maybe with the prospect of going home soon.

It was a good dream, I think. It certainly gave me something to think other than the news about Issac, and with the early wake up, Tora and I also started walking earlier and reached El Burgo Ranero early enough I thought I would continue to Mansilla de las Mulas, but the sun set and the moon is so thin tonight it may as well be non-existent, so it got very dark and we had to camp. If you noticed, I didn’t write the place with the date on this entry because I’m not very sure where are we exactly, but just 3 kilometers ahead there is a town called Reliegos, much to my chagrin, but well, we were already settled for the night when I thought to check the map.

I should go to sleep now, tonight the sky is clear so there is hope it will not rain!

Lots of Love,  
Eos and Tora

#####  *******

30th October 2019

I’m only writing this so later I can do a reality check on myself.

And because I don’t know what else I should do.

We are lost.

We are really, truly lost, I don’t know how it happened and to say I’m scared is an understatement, I’m terrified.

I don’t know what happened, I woke up just now and we are not in the same place we went to sleep.

I checked yesterday's pictures and it is definitely not the same place. Nothing around seems familiar. We were camping just next to an asphalt road and it is not there, instead, there is a dirt trail going in a completely different direction.

All my stuff is ok, undisturbed. Tora is also ok but doesn’t understand that I’m upset. I don’t understand how this happened.

I’m sure I didn’t lose time.

I don’t know how someone could have moved us at night without us noticing, and I almost wish to believe I was drugged, just to have an explanation, but I don’t feel ill.

I dearly wish I’m being pranked.

I hope I didn’t lose time or sleepwalked.

My phone doesn’t catch any signal and the GPS doesn’t work.

I’m going to feed Tora, eat something myself and have a good cry. In that order. Then I’m going to pull myself together, pack my stuff and follow the trail. We’ll be ok. It’ll be ok, it’ll be ok, it’ll be ok.

 

 

 

By now I can tell with almost no doubt that I’m awake. I’m writing coherently and I can read correctly what I wrote earlier, the contents of my phone and the hour. I have the correct numbers of fingers. Tora looks like Tora. Things happen linearly with continuity. I feel pain, but that isn’t that useful because I can feel pain in dreams. But I’m definitely not dreaming. I usually can tell and if I’m lucid dreaming, I should have already woken up with sleep paralysis.

But.

We are currently under the care of literal hobbits, like, legit Tolkien Hobbits. Elijah Wood kind of hobbits. With the feet and the precious tiny houses.

After following the pathetic little plan I scrapped together in the middle of my meltdown, we walked north following the trail until we stumbled upon a town. A hobbit town. And I believe I startled them more than they startled me.

Our languages are completely unintelligible to each other.

At some point they stopped being panicky and one lady with two kids hanging from her skirts approached me, probably because by then I was just sitting on the ground crying.

She asked me something, I believe, for her intonation. And she may had introduced herself, but I was too overwhelmed and I don’t believe she is used to speaking to people who doesn’t speak the same thing as her, so I couldn’t parse her words and I may had forgotten momentarily how to talk at all. One of the kids gave me the tiniest handkerchief in the world and it set me off crying again.

I don’t believe that before that moment I had ever been in a situation where I was so completely unable to communicate. I just felt so helpless, in that moment, in that field I didn’t even know if gestures would work, because, what if they mean different things to them? Or insult them? Or they don’t have a meaning at all? Do hobbits start counting from the thumb? To they point at themselves to the chest or to the nose? Do they wave hello and goodbye?

But that unmistakable little act of compassion.

It was too much for me.

And it keeps fucking happening, they are just too kind.

My lady saviour was soon joined by a better dressed gentleman, who said some kind of greeting to me, before he and my lady saviour started talking over me, probably about me.

The kids tried to talk to me, and I think they didn’t care I couldn’t understand them, even less because I took Tora from my jacket and they were incredibly chuffed about that.

When the adults finished their talk, I was led to one of those awesome tunnel houses, one bigger and fancier that the others in town, so I suppose it is home of some kind of ruler. Then I was set into a cozy fancy little office with sugared tea and finger food, but I was then cruelly abandoned by my lady saviour and wonderful children with just a couple pats to a hand for solace.

The gentleman is apparently the owner of the house and he introduced himself carefully to me as Baaru Abarauda Tuc, “Baaru” being most probably a title or occupation of sorts. At that point I was much calmer and more coherent thanks to the therapeutic effects of a sugared warm drink and pastries, and I managed to introduce myself and Tora in Spanish, English and French, just to cover all my bases, but nothing, except, Mr. Tuc appeared to understand I was testing out different languages because he showed me two books, each written in a different writing system. He was a bit discouraged when I couldn’t understand them, and we sat in silence for an uncomfortably long time eating pastries like squirrels.

In the end (when we finished of snack) he gathered himself and showed me to a room that is, fortunately, my size. It is clean but it has the smell of a room that has been closed and unused for too long, and it is kind of very deep into the house, far from other occupied rooms. On the other hand it has its own bathroom and water-closet, which makes it more luxurious that the hostels we have been staying at.

Just a moment ago Mr. Tuc came in again to leave me lunch and he was a bit surprised, I think, to find me writing, or maybe it was my ballpoint pen.

It also seems a bit weird to me that I have only been interacting with Mr. Tuc, I mean, he is probably important and/or rich and here he is serving me lunch.

It just occurred to me that he is worried I’m dangerous. I am certainly much bigger that the hobbits, for one. And they don’t know anything about me or my intentions.

Mr. Tuc is very kind and generous. He doesn’t have to be dealing with this mess personally and here he is serving me tea and bringing me lunch and giving me a place to sleep.

Or maybe it is just his job to do that. Who knows? I don’t know anything about hobbits, but I’m liking them so far.

Now I wish I had watched all the movies or read the books or fanfiction or anything. I’ll have to do with the little I remember from a movie I watched when I was ten and whatever I absorbed from tumblr mutuals who were in the fandom, I suppose. At least it was not Games of Thrones, because all I know about GoT is that everything is awful and everyone dies.

And I don’t even know how accurate my knowledge is. I’m in a place inhabited by hobbits, sure, but it is possible that whatever Tolkien wrote is not real in this place, or it is inaccurate, or maybe it happened a century ago or will happen in a century. For all I know, what I know about LOTR could be as if someone lost like I am here but in my own reality(?) (universe?) had read a Batman comic.

But I suppose my best chances are speaking with a wizard or the elves, except I don’t know how I can find them.

I suppose I first need to learn to communicate with my host. Perhaps Mr. Tuc knows what to do and I just need to be able to ask.

But first, I’ll finish my lunch. If tea and a snack gave me clarity, maybe a whole meal will grant me the solution to my problems.

Lots of love,  
Eos and Tora

* * *

####  **Translator notes:**

[1] Lit. Travel Diary.(return to text)  
[2] Protagonist of the popular manga and anime series _Fullmetal Alchemist_ by Hiromu Arakawa.(return to text)  
[3] The Credencial del Peregrino or Pilgrim’s Passport is a document that identifies a pilgrim as such and allows them to procure accommodation in special public hostels along the Camino de Santiago. At the end of the pilgrimage, it accredits how much they have walked so they can obtain a document called Compostela. (return to text)  
[4] Lit. Pilgrim’s Office. (return to text)  
[5] Pico de Orizaba, also known as Citlaltépetl, the highest mountain in Mexico and the third highest in North America.(return to text)  
[6] Nauhcampatépetl or Cofre de Perote, located at the same state as Pico de Orizaba, is Mexico’s eight highest mountain. At its summit is located a broadcasting facility.(return to text)

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   * Basically, the other day I was reading the latest chapter (at the time) of [Renacido by seeing_blue](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17689715), another Modern Girl on Middle Earth fic and I, like, had the irresistible need to write this. The problem is, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing and I usually post multichaptered things when I already have al least part of the next bit written, but this time I don’t have anything else and I don’t know what I’m going to do. But it was post or leave this to be forgotten forever, so here it is. I accept and covet feedback, I even promise to respond and not be facetious. 
>   * Also, my knowledge of Tolkien’s worldbuilding is spotty, like painfully so. Like, I don’t know who the hell is Tom Bombadil or anything about the Valar and Sauron, but here you have me looking at moon charts and learning the shire calendar and ~~making up~~ figuring out hobbit names in westron 
>   * I am never figuring out hobbit names again. Once was enough for me. I mean, it was fun but I also want to never do it again. I just needed it for narrative purposes and then I wrote myself into a corner and I think I know how I’m going to scape this trap I laid myself. You’ll see, it’s awful and not elegant at all. I’m already dreading writing the thing. 
>   * How did I come up with my hobbit name? Well Tuc is canonically the original version of Took. Then i used these sources [(1) ](https://folk.uib.no/hnohf/westron.htm) [(2) ](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1kDxxk9NpuwEYZjXh-TNMsAKT8-IIF7_zkZvnhgfEklY/preview) [(3) ](https://realelvish.net/wordlists/adunaic/dictionary/) [(4) ](https://www.jrrvf.com/hisweloke/sindar/online/sindar/dict-sd-en.html#) [(5) ](https://www.elfdict.com/) for the rest. If “thain” is the term that Tolkien “translated” for an “archaic term for a minor noble or lord”, then I used as a basis the Andûnaic (the language from where Westron evolved) voices “bâr” (lord) and “âru”(king) to form “bâru”. Why not simply use “bâr” then? Because ~~I hate myself~~ both in Westron and Andunaic the voice for “half” is “ban” or the particle “ba”, and the particle “ar” also stands for “king” in Andunaic, so it is not so farfetched to assume that “bâr” is etymologically mean to be “half king” (“ba[n]”+”[a]ar[u]”). As the Westron (most modern) voice for “king” is “aran” and in Sindarin it is either “âr” “aran” or “eiran”, it seems suitably archaic sounding to have the oldest “âru” fossilised and only found currently in “bâru”, so bang! An archaic term for a minor ruler! For Abarauda, to make things simple for me (haha), I made the wild assumption that Fortinbras was entomologically constructed from the Latin “fortis” (strong-brave) and Old English “bræs” (brass, bronze), so the Andunaic for “strength-endurance” is “abâr”, while a disused term for “metal-copper” in Sindarin is “raud”, male hobbit names end in “-a”, so Abarauda. Bâru Abarauda Tuc, Thain Fortinbras Took. With the same method I also came up with Angarauda Tuc for Ferumbras Took, but that’s it! No more! 
>   * Anyways, don’t let my whining deceive you, I enjoyed writing this a lot and I’m very thankful that you read it! 
> 

> 
> Lots of love,  
> Cuetlaxcoyotl


	2. Chapter 2

31st October 2019

Dear DdV,

Good things have happened.

Yesterday after lunch, Mr. Tuc returned to my room with more tea and a whole bunch of maps. I believe his intention was to give them to me so I could show him where I came from, but I —quite predictably— didn’t recognise anything on them.

But that whole affair ended up being useful, as it inspired me to draw some (terrible and inaccurate) maps of, well, Earth, for Mr. Tuc, and then I did my best to show him (with my best stick figure drawings) where I had been traveling and the last place I was.

I believe he understood, because he then showed me a map and pointed very insistently to it, until I understood very clearly he was pointing at his house, and then he pointed very insistently to my maps and did a gesture that could be translated to “how the hell?”. I then did my best to find in the map the place I believe Tora and I first arrived, pointed at it and to my best rendition of Spain and repeated his “how the hell?” gesture. Mr. Tuc got a very thoughtful look on his face.

Then, emboldened my successful communication attempt, I was able to tell to my host (via the worst ever game of Pictionary and a whole lot of pantomime) that I needed to take Tora outside so he could do his business.

If something, I can repay Mr. Tuc for his help by amusing him with my wacky antics.

He sure laughed a lot.

Furthermore, from Mr. Tuc I learned a couple useful words like “sai” (yes), “baa” (no), “hazar” (thanks), “ki” (you) and “ni” (I). I discovered that nodding for “yes” and shaking my head for “no” is also a thing among hobbits, thankfully; waving hello got me a puzzled look; hobbits start counting from their pinky; an open palm to my chest for “me” worked well enough, but both Mr. Tuc and Mr. Labingi say “me” with an open palm to the diaphragm, or perhaps the stomach, which is likely from what I know about hobbits.

I got a bit ahead of myself.

Mr. Labingi is the other good thing that happened.

He arrived today after lunch, on time for tea, bringing with him books and notes in what I understand to be the infamous Sindarin, and he is now teaching me his language, which he calls “Aduuni”. He is also very interested in learning Spanish and I believe he is some kind of translator.

By now he has me about as fluent as a polite tourist with a phrasebook (which is a lot for only two days) and I have been kind of released into his care. He was the one to finally introduce me to the rest of Mr. Tuc’s household when we wandered out for dinner, and he, much to his chagrin, had to act as a buffer and interpreter, because everyone directed their questions about me to him, and while I don’t have any shame and will play charades if that’s what works, the poor man(? Hobbit?) (gentleman?) is one of those serious, dignified souls.

I think that in the end they were just trying mess with him (and me). Poor Mr. Labingi.

I must admit that I’ve having fun too, and I dearly wish was not so dire. But now that Mr. Tuc knows how lost I am, maybe he can think of something, and now that I am learning to communicate, I am less and less helpless. And what else I can do except looking at the bright side?

Lots of love,

Eos

 

***

3nd November 2019

Dear DdV,

I find myself somewhat disappointed that these last days I wasn’t magically transported back home; but if I think about it, I’m alive, so maybe the date doesn’t apply to me.

But that’s not really what I wanted to write about.

Today, Mr. Labingi discovered my phone.

I had left it to charge (pitifully) under the window and the whole setup puzzled him once he saw it, so he poked at it.

I fear he may ad lost some years of his life when he accidentally touched the fingerprint scanner and the screen lighted up.

I’m ashamed to admit that I laughed at him.

But in my defence, after getting over the scare, Mr. Labingi seemed fascinated by the phone (and soon grew frustrated about the fact that we don’t have enough language in common between us to get a proper explanation). I did show him some of the phone’s functions, and now I have the world's only video of a Hobbit.

Mr. Labingi asked me to show the phone to Mr. Tuc (who was just as fascinated) and he got that pensive look again.

His questions afterwards where a bit more pointed that Mr. Labingi’s, and he was a bit more insistent, but I’m glad, because after a long gruelling conversation, half in broken Aduuni, half drawings and pantomime, with the aid of Mr. Labingi as interpreter. Mr. Tuc now knows that, no, I’m not just from somewhere far away, the place I’m from does not exist in this world. And the evidence is there in videos and pictures and as the phone itself.

Once the idea had settled in, Mr. Labingi and I got dismissed from the studio, but before we left, Mr. Tuc pated my hand and told me in slow, mindful Aduuni:

“Niyoozfa rezta kiyad”

Which translates to something like “I give (but in the future form which I didn’t know at that point and this evening lesson) help to you”.

I cried at that moment. Mr. Labingi smiled very brightly at me and settled me down with some tea. Since then I have been filled with hope.

It seems a bit silly to attribute it to the phone (of all things), I mean, eventually I could have gotten fluent enough to explain, I did explained it now, but the phone was what prompted it and it also proves that I’m telling the truth.

I may be utterly lost, but I am very lucky, aren’t I? To find the right people to help me, to have the things I need. I’m safe and surrounded by kindness.

Hobbits are truly marvellous.

I have to think a way to repay them.

Lots of love,

Eos

 

***

5rd November 2019

Dear DdV,

Mr. Tuc decided my problem is a problem for the elves, which is what I suspected but didn’t know how to ask, so I’m very pleased about it. He also decided to help me reach the elves.

So Mr. Labingi is not to pleased about that, because he was told to go with me. Thankfully some of the first words I learned in Aduuni are “sorry” and “thanks”!

I really hope he forgives me. He has grown to be a friend in these last days and I do really need his help, as he is the one I can communicate with the best. I mean, I don’t think he can refuse if Mr. Tuc is asking him, but I do wish to be in good terms with him and it hurts to have him be so curt with me.

I understand it is a very big thing to ask of someone, as the distance between the Shire and the elven city is about the same as the Camino, but all my hopes depend on it.

The lessons today got really uncomfortable, too. We usually have fun, trying to teach each other but our usual camaraderie was gone and Mr. Labingi left early.

I spent the rest of the afternoon with Tora in the garden, and after dinner I retired to write. If it weren’t because I don’t want to worry Mrs. Tuc, I’ll skip supper. Mr. Labingi will be present and he is still the one to translate great part of the conversation for me, but I doubt the is going to be happy to do it as the things are, and it is going to be awful and uncomfortable.

I should be happy right now, but I only feel guilty.

I think I’ll just go to sleep early and apologise in the morning.

Love,

Eos

 

***

6th November 2019

Dear DdV,

He is going with me!

I’m writing to you early because Mr. Labingi was just here a moment ago to apologise(!)

It was actually very funny, because he first gave me a speech in Aduuni, which I don’t doubt was flowery and elegant, but from where I only understood about half (apparently my skipping a meal was a big deal and he got worried) and then he remembered himself and tried to apologise in Spanish, which was very sweet of him.

To my best recollection (and some editing) it went like this:

“Lo siento [he actually said “yo digo perdón”]. Tu quieres ir [a] casa. Tu no [here he flailed a bit at a loss] dices ‘Tora, ven’ ‘Tora, siéntate' a mi [he actually said “para yo”, and the apology was derailed as I tried to explain that the word he wanted is the verb “ordenar” while not knowing the word in Aduuni either, but he got it and we went over the conjugation at his insistence]. Tu no [me] [we really need to go over the atonic pronouns, too] ordenas[te] ir. Abarauda [me] ordena ir. Ir es [here he pantomimed “lifting a heavy load”], pero yo quiero dar[te] ayuda.”[7]

I did my best to thank him, and I can only hope he understood how much this means to me.

Hopefully I’ll be going home soon!!

Lots of love,

Eos

 

 

 

 

P.S. We were packing for the journey and we were talking and he told me we will passing through his hometown and I finally put 2 and 2 together. “Leban” means “bag”! His house is called “Lebaneg”!

I’ve talking with Bilbo Baggins this whole time!!!

He didn’t understand why his name’s meaning was important to me, and by lack of a better explanation, I told him that my own name means both “dawn” and “wind” and my last name “city”, but in two different languages (and I didn’t mention I actually have two names and two last names to spare me the headache), but I didn’t know these words in Aduuni and I fear he believes I’m called “breath” and “big town”. He confessed he doesn’t know what his first name means.

Why did Tolkien did this to me?? Why did he felt the need to translate names!!??

Bilba Labingi, Bilbo Baggins. I can’t believe it. We’ve been calling each other by our last names, if we had not, I may had figured it out earlier!! Holy shit! Bilbo Baggins!![8]

 

* * *

####  **Translator notes:**

[7]I’m Sorry [“I say apology”]. You want to go home. You don’t say ‘Tora, come’, ‘Tora, sit’ to me [“for I”]. You don’t order me to go. Abarauda orders me to go. To go is [pantomime of “lifting a heavy load”], but I want to give you help.(return to text)

[8]After the entry of 4th November 2019, all proper nouns are translated in concordance to J.R.R. Tolkien’s translation of _The Red Book of Westmarch_ (1937)(return to text)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   * This one is short because I was super excited about it. 
>   * I lied to you and kept messing around with Westron. At first I was kind of self-conscious, but I have now embraced it; this fic will make actual linguists and Tolkien scholars cry and there is nothing that can stop me. 
>   * First of all: “sai” (yes), “baa” (no), “hazar” (thanks), “ki” (you) and “ni” (I)  
>  “Bâ”, “ki” and “ni” are canonical adunaic, in part to make things easier for me, but also because the word “no” and some personal pronouns remain pretty much the same among romance languages. “Sai” was guessed from the adunaic “sâibeth” meaning “assent” where “beth” means “word/saying”.  
>  “Hazar”… well, “hazar” is just the quenya “hanta” (thanks) westronized (but not really) beyond all recognition. 
>   * “Niyoozfa rezta kiyad” is an adunaic phrase lifted (and then altered) [from here](https://realelvish.net/phrasebooks/adunaic/).  
>  Originally it was “Ni-yôzi zîr ki-yad” (“I give you my love” lit . “I-am-giving love you-wards”). What I did was to take the verb “yôzi” (“to give” in present continuous, dunno if it is first person specific), where the root is “yôz-”, and gave it the totally made up future suffix “-fa” (kind of taken from the canonical quenya future suffix “-uva”).  
>  “Rezta” is simply the quenya “resta” (“aid/save”, and actually a verb, but I kind of made up that westron, or at least hobbit westron, only uses “help” it as a noun) also westronized.  
>  And I don’t feel bad about using strainght up adunaic for aduni because “I help you” in Spanish is “te ayudo” and in Italian is “ti aiuto” 
>   * Hobbit names! I said I wasn’t doing it anymore but I’m copy pasting my tumblr post about it:  
>  I found out that the word in quenya for “thief/robber” is “pilwë” or “pilu”. Making a wild Tolkien like leap in logic, in phonetics there is a phenomenon called lenition where consonants get “softened” and, guess what, the phoneme /p/ usually gets softened /b/, so “pilu” would evolve to “bilu” over the time, probably even dropping the u (because if you try very fast to say “pilu” or “bilu” it is very hard to pronounce that u!)  
>  So, what I am saying that the etymological root for Bilbo’s name is “thief”.  
>  And it could make the dwarves calling him “Master Burglar” a pun if pilu/bilu or a evolved form made it into Westron! and it may even be a nickname! like Merry (Kali “happy” short for Kalidoc) and Pippin (Razan “little apple” short for Razadur)! 
>   * Remember how I said that I had an inelegant solution to my having to “translate” all hobbit names problem? The second “translator” note is that. I just straight up dropped my writing gimmick. That’s it. 
>   * Eos’ full name is Eos María Medina Juárez. Unknowingly to her, Isabel’s full name is Ceferina Isabel Burgos Suárez, so both of their names mean: Wind, a queen’s biblical name, city and two different writings of the same family’s name from, wait for it, Santiago de Compostela. 
> 

> 
> Lots of love,  
> cuetlaxcoyotl


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning:** In this chapter there is talk about the emotional ramifications of a family member vanishing!

Hobbiton, 7th November 2019

Dear DdV,

We are now on our way to Rivendell, which I am told is the name of the elven city, but first we need to travel through the Shire and right now we are resting at Mr. Baggins’ house.

It is certainly different, but the Shire gives me the same feeling I had walking the Camino. It feels safe, the people are mostly friendly and helpful. I do attract some attention, being twice the size of everyone else, but Mr. Baggins is always able to talk people into sympathy and, if he can not, he starts throwing Mr. Took’s name around.

So far, despite everything, I’m actually enjoying the journey. Tora is larger and more obedient, so he gets to walk more, and Mr. Baggins is a fabulous traveling companion, as he knows the land very well, has a lot of conversation topics and has taken to teach me walking songs. 

And I can understand most of Mr. Baggins’ conversation now. I mean, I still miss a lot, but he has been a very mindful teacher from the beginning. Only I’m a bit sad because we have decided to put Spanish aside for the moment and, if everything goes well for me, Mr. Baggins will not have another opportunity to learn, and whatever he has learned, he will have no one to practice with.

On the other hand, I don’t know if this is something that bothers Mr. Baggins, as he told me that, before now, he never expected to actually use Sindarin to talk to elves. He learned it from books his parents had, to read said books and translate some poems, sometimes, for funsies.

Because we are at his house, he has been telling me a lot about his parents and his family (Mr. Took is his cousin! Their family is huge! They have like ten aunts and uncles). Apparently, his mom was quite the traveler and went once to Rivendell in her youth, and that’s why Mr. Took was do adamant that Mr. Baggins had to be the one to go with me. Also, because Mr. Baggins is more or less fluent in Sindarin, or at least reads it fluently. But I think it’s mostly about his mom.

He also asked me about my family, which won’t ever stop being a difficult topic, but I still I told him about my mom, my uncle, Cristy and the Friends, who are basically all my family now, even if I had already told him much about them before. I got the feeling he wanted to ask why I was so uncomfortable, but was too polite to do it and I’m glad he didn’t, because I didn’t want to tell that I too have lots of relatives who I loved and who are all alive and well and just stopped talking to us once my dad and my granny died, as if they only tolerated us for their sake, about how they treat my uncle for siding with us.  

I miss my family.

It is weird, because homesickness didn’t hurt me this much back at Spain or the cruise. Maybe that last contract, when I wanted to go home, but it is not the same, I wasn’t really homesick, I just wanted to leave.

It is probably Mr. Baggins’ house effect on me. It feels so very loved, warm, homely, but it is all underneath a thin layer of loneliness, though, like the faint tobacco stains on the walls of a smoker’s house, but it is a home and it is loved, the whole Shire feels like that to some degree.

I should leave this here before I get even more melancholic.

Lots of love,

Eos

 

***

Bree, 13th November 2019

Dear DdV,

We’ve arrived to a human town called Bree. It has been an interesting experience and now both Mr. Baggins and I attract attention; him because he is a well-dressed gentleman hobbit and me because I am a tall woman in weird clothing, with a dog with a flashy coat.

But that’s not important.

When we were trying to get a room in an inn, the most wonderful thing happened.

We happened upon Gandalf! A legit authentic wizard! Mr. Baggins didn’t recognize him (nor I did), but he knew Mr. Baggins on sight, and he asked him what he was doing at Bree.

Mr. Baggins told him about my problem and had me show Gandalf the phone in private. Gandalf was very surprised! I don’t believe he gets to be surprised too often, but he was! 

And

He decided he is going to accompany us to Rivendell! And I am glad, because for one, Gandalf has a horse-drawn cart, and two, if I remember correctly, the dwarves almost got eaten by trolls and orcs on their quest.

It is very weird to be thinking about orcs as a serious concern.

So I am very excited about Gandalf traveling with us, but I must confess that talking with him is a bit frustrating because he doesn’t speak to me as clearly as Mr. Baggins.

Still, he is interesting and just as curious about where I am from as Mr. Baggins and the Tooks, so I spent all dinner and supper doing my best effort to tell them about Mexico, and the maps I drew for Mr. Took made a comeback.

Gandalf also asked me why I was so far from home when I got lost in the first place and got thoughtful when I told him about the Camino and my pilgrimage.

I asked Gandalf if he knows what happened to me, and he told me that he needs some time to think about it, so I believe he doesn’t know.

That was a bit discouraging.

But he also told me that going to the elves seems to be the correct choice, as Lord Elrond is very wise. I don’t think I have that many other options, so we’ll continue.

Either way, Gandalf presence with us is just further proof that the little I know about Tolkien’s writings may be true, and that means that there is people that has been alive pretty much since the beginning of this world, and one of them may know how to get me home.

And if what I know is accurate, I can tell someone, tell Gandalf, the little I know about their future and I may be able to warn them to avoid at least a bit of tragedy.

Mr. Baggins has finished his own writing, so I’m also stopping here so we can extinguish the lamp.

Lots of love,

Eos

 

***

17th November 2019

Dear DdV,

Traveling by cart sure is less tiring than walking, but it is not that much faster, and my butt is sore from all the bumping.

And there is snow!! It is really pretty and quite wonderful to see, but I admit I grew tired of it very quickly.

The good thing is that we get to sleep on the cart and, with the tarp to trap the heat of three people and a dog, it is very warm and almost comfortable. I do miss being able to stop at a town every day to use the restroom and shower, though.

Mr. Baggins is even more unused to travel and the lack of comforts. I must confess that a couple times, when he complained about something or another, I very unkindly thought that he resembled the more difficult passengers at the cruise, but I have to remind myself that this is something he is doing as a favor to me, without expecting anything in return.

I suppose that traveling with company had to have its downsides.

Hopefully we’ll reach Rivendell before we grow tired of each other.

Love,

Eos

 

***

18th November 2019

I wish Cristy were here, so I could be brave for her, so she could tell me everything is going to be ok, so she could tell me we had each other, and it makes me feel wretched. The comfort her presence would give me, is not worth making her go through this too.

The thing is that I know her, and once I tell her this, she is going to say she wouldn’t have minded being here with me.

I miss her. I miss everyone.

 

***

20th November 2019

Dear DdV,

Nothing of importance has happened and, even if I have too much time to overthink and worry, it gets more difficult to write.

It doesn’t help that we’ve settled into a routine of eating breakfast, riding, eating lunch, riding, eating dinner, riding, sleeping, and repeat. With snacks and language lessons thrown in the middle—we couldn’t help ourselves and we started with the Spanish again.

The good thing is that, as we become more and more used to the road, Mr. Baggins attitude has changed, and he is starting to enjoy the journey. He even told me the other day that he is starting to see the appeal of going on long walks on your own, to places where no one knows you and see things you hadn’t seen before.

He also has expressed his regrets about not being an skillful artist (in much simpler words, but he gives me the impression of always speaking in an elegant cultivated manner when he doesn’t have to communicate clearly with me) and has encouraged me to spend as much battery life as I dare taking pictures of interesting things. Now I also posses the world’s only video of a wizard singing.

Other new development is that Tora has managed to utterly endear himself to Mr. Baggins, to the point that Mr. Baggins is seriously considering acquiring a dog of his very own.

A part of me wishes I could be able to see that, especially because Mr. Baggins has only known Tora already potty-trained and mostly outdoors.

I’m going to miss him when I get home.

There is no way I leave without leaving them some warning.

I suppose I need to prepare myself for a conversation with Gandalf.

Lots of love,

Eos

 

***

21st November 2019

Dear DdV,

I haven’t had the chance to talk to Gandalf as Mr. Baggins is always present and I have the feeling (which I’m not entirely comfortable with, but I have learned to pay attention to this kind of things) that this is a conversation he shouldn’t hear.

The good news is that once we reach Rivendell I’m sure I will get the opportunity to pass along my warnings before I go.

But even writing about it feels risky, as Mr. Baggins’ fluency in Spanish is growing very quickly and I have been teaching him to read it.  It is as if someone wanted me to let the subject lie.

Love,

Eos

 

***

22nd November 2019

Dear DdV,

Still nothing remarkable. I mean, today is my birthday but I didn’t want to bring attention to it. The situation doesn’t feel appropriate, and it’s not as if I have really celebrated it since I graduated, anyways.

Anyways, today Mr. Baggins and I started to tell stories to pass the time, but it has been mostly me, though. I’m outnumbered 2 to 1 and they are just as curious about my home as I am about theirs.

I’m not a great storyteller as Mr. Baggins, though, and it doesn’t help that my Westron is still quite bad-- if something, it is good practice.  

I have told them mostly actual history, mind you, and interesting things that have happened to me, mostly because they don’t have way to tell if whatever I’m saying is fiction or not, and I don’t want to give them the wrong impression, but also because Mr. Baggins should have more cultural context to his Spanish.

Gandalf tells me that here they also have a town built upon a lake, but he says it is not as impressive (yet) as good old Tenochtitlan. Mr. Baggins was more interested in the floating gardens, but I only know how they are built in theory and I don’t have any actual technical know-how.

He was disappointed, I think, but covered it up saying that hobbits don’t do well on water anyways.

It wasn’t the first time I didn’t have enough knowledge about something to give him a complete answer, and it will not be the last time, but I have grown to hate disappointing him.

He is just one of these people, you know, the kind of people who see the best of you, and you can’t help but to try and live up to it.

Disappointing him is worse to have him be angry, like with my mom and granny and Cristy.

 

 

 

I have been trying to not think about it, but my deadline to reach Santiago was 2 days ago. My family must be so worried.

How I am supposed to explain my disappearance when I go back?

I wonder if I have made my mom cry, if I have made Cristy cry. If they’ll be able to forgive me. I can’t make my mom go through this again.

Hopefully they will just believe I needed space or couldn’t call. Maybe I just changed plans, after all, once I went without contact for 3 months at the cruise.

No, that doesn’t sound believable even to me.

Please, don’t make me do this to my mom. Please don’t make me break her heart again. I know she is still waiting for my dad to return, to still be alive. Please don’t make her wait for me too.

It would have been less cruel to kill me and let her take my body home. Not knowing what happened is much, much more painful.

I just want to go home.

 

***

25th November 2019

Der DdV,

It has happened again and this time at the worst possible moment, as I don’t have access to running water and Mr. Baggins has keep a closer, concerned, eye on me since my little pathetic breakdown from the other day— so no discreetly slipping away.

In retrospective, it was just as embarrassing and a whole lot more amusing than I thought it would be, having to explain to both Gandalf the Wizard and Mr. Bilbo Baggins the use of a menstrual cup and why I was boiling it so far away from the camp.

Hilarious.

This prompted Gandalf to reminisce about Mr. Baggins’ mom and her own ordeals while traveling, which Mr. Baggins most definitely didn’t want to know about.

But they did make me admire Mrs. B a whole lot more, and I suppose that if Mrs. B could do this with rags, I can do it with the cup.

And I was fearing I would have to deal with it without ibuprofen, but Mr. Baggins, bless his heart, made me a very very bitter tea with knitting bush(?)[9] bark and it has helped a lot with the cramps.

Still, it doesn’t escape my sense of irony, the fact that my period will end about the same time we finally arrive to a settlement with plumbing.

Unfair.

Lots of love,

Eos

 

***

28th November 2019

Dear DdV,

Today Mr. Baggins asked Gandalf about the elves and somehow this evolved into asking me about the elves back home, so I had to tell them that there are no elves back home, nor hobbits, nor dwarves and such, but that we know of them from stories.

Mr. Baggins asked me, then, what had happened to them and wondered if hobbits back home just kept to themselves.

I told him I don’t know, but that it wasn’t likely that the hobbits were just hidden, because we have satellites and other technologies that have photographed pretty much all the planet surface and we could have seen some evidence of them.

It dampened the mood a lot.

I wanted to tell him that they most probably never were there and that the stories we know of hobbits come from a novel written by a linguist, but once again I had that blasted nagging feeling I should kept silent about it; I’m still reeling from it, I don’t like keeping things from Mr. Baggins.

Fortunately, I won’t need to wait for much longer until I can tell everything to Gandalf, and then Gandalf will tell Mr. Baggins the important bits.

Lots of love,

Eos

 

***

Rivendell, 30th November 2019

Dear DdV,

We are finally at Rivendell.

It looks kind of unreal, like the kind of place that you can only make with CGI, and I kept waiting to find out the backgrounds are painted on, but no, they are truly there.

But for all the wonder, it is also a very welcoming, gently organic place, like a garden, if a garden were a forest, or a forest were a garden, and not like a town at all, despite all the incredible architecture.

I went full tourist mode and took pictures of everything.

Mr. Baggins is equally awestruck.

And the baths! And the beds! Not even the most expensive cabin suits back at the cruise were this luxurious!

Our hosts are also striking. There is something to elves that feels—ethereal, but ancient, like an amber encased fossil. The feeling one gets in a museum, or gallery, or church, something big and old and alive, and beautiful too.

They are all very beautiful.   

And old. Very old.

And kind. They have been nothing but kind to us, kind and curious.

We got the chance to bath and change our clothing before meeting Lord Elrond, who is the person who may know a solution to my problem. I had never felt so shy before.

Gandalf told me Lord Elrond was wise and that he has been alive for thousands of years, but I had not been prepared for his undiluted presence and attention.

Lord Elrond is not the oldest thing I have been in the presence of— I once saw the Mammut bones they have at Talismán Station[10] in Tenochtitlan, for one—but Lord Elrond is the first that can look back at me.

I mean, there is Gandalf, but Gandalf is like—the land itself, his presence is like-- like how Anathema Device can’t feel Adam Young’s aura, like standing on a field, even like being in the open ocean, sometimes, but it is mostly like a sound too low or too high.

Lord Elrond presence is the sun overhead when you are on a field and there is no shade around, like being in a concert, right in front the speakers.

The other elves we’ve meet are young in comparison.

Lord Elrond was just as curious and puzzled about me and my problem and the phone, as Gandalf and Mr. Took before him.

He asked me lots of questions I could mostly understand and answer on my own, without needing Mr. Baggins to do our well-practiced pantomime-and-pictionary routine, but I was grateful for his company; he was awestruck, but not dazzled like me. He is a pragmatic, down to earth soul, Mr. Baggins.

I’m also glad I’ve been writing you, too, because it helped recall what happened on my journey and tell it more or less coherently.

By the end of it, Lord Elrond had one of these thoughtful looks that seem to appear on everyone around me, and I was exhausted.

He told us he needed time to contemplate on what I had just told him, and then bid us good night.

Mr. Baggins was doing better that I, so he got us back to our rooms and made me eat supper, before making me take Tora on a walk. Then he tried to get me to go to sleep.

And I did try, but I’m nervous. I’m restless. Waiting has never done me well.

I’ll try again.

Full of hope,

Eos

 

* * *

 

#### Translator notes:

[9] Originally written as “arbusto tejedor” (lit. knitting/weaving bush), it probably makes reference to the misheard Westron _tazlan_ (willow), as the Westron voices _toz_ and _lana_ mean “bush” and “weaver”. Furthermore, white willow bark has been used historically as a painkiller and fever reducer. (Return to text)

[10] Found in 1978 buried in the bed of lake Texcoco during the excavations for the construction of the line 4 light railway tracks at Tenochtitlan. The specimen belongs to the species _Mammuthus Imperator_ , which inhabited the zone approximately 12000 years ago, and it has been in exhibition at the station built near the site of discovery since 1981.(Return to text)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   * I’m leaving it there because if poor Eos has to wait, so do we all!
>   * Two reasons it took me so long to update: 1) Eos was sad this chapter and I don’t like writing sad things :/ 2) I watched some historical costume videos and then spent way too much of time uselessly wondering about what kind of undergarments lady hobbits (and just people who can’t pee while standing in general) would wear. Because, I mean, for one, these gowns lady hobbits wear in the movies look like the kind that coexisted with open legged drawers, but! A) those gowns are too short for modesty, even with a lot of petticoats underneath B) they have easy access to private toilets, making null the open crotch drawers’ function to be able to relieve oneself without undressing. And who even knows about elven ladies (they probably wear close fitted knickers or go commando, because their outer layers are also more fitted to the body and they do wear pants/leggings/trousers sometimes) and human ladies (depends where they live/what do they do) (People with breast would use some kind support garment or not depending on their activity, but lady hobbits definitely wear stays under these gowns) .
>   * To all the people interested in this for the Westron: I’m sorry! If it serves as consolation, I say that “bu” in Bungo Baggins comes from the quenya “poica” or sindarin “puig” (both from the primitive root “poy”) for clean/pure/neat/tidy, which would make it a very hobbitish, bagginish name!  Also, Belladonna Took’s name! I propose “hoîolos”/”hoîollas” (from the primitive elvish _oy_ “ever” and _olos_ “dream”, “ever dreaming”/”dream forever”, also in quenya and Sindarin flower/blossom are “lós”/”loth”, and lobelia -the only canonical flower name in westron- is “Hamanullas”) as the westron name for the belladonna plant (as it is a deadly poison that also causes hallucinations), her name would be actually Banoîlos Tuc, as the primitive elvish “ban” means beauty! Both mean more or less the same thing etymologically, but it's kind like the difference between naming your kid Oleander vs Olive, or difference between a cabin in the woods vs a cottage in the forest  (but also just to give her a B name!)
>   * The canonical word for willow is tasar/tathar pretty much along all non-dwarven middle earth languages, so in Westron (or at least hobbit westron) it should be at least similar, so tazlan, the “lan” (weave with the suffix -a like in pût(blow)/pûta(blower)) is kind of deliberate, as willow branches are extensively used for crafting baskets and stuff. This is a trap I put myself, because the source from where I’m getting all this hints that tasar comes from the old elvish roots “taw” for forest and “-ar” king (but also there is a lot if “tûr” as also a root for king and “taur” as a word for things that are great), but also there is “tussa”/“toss”/”tass” meaning bush, “galadh”/”alda” and “orn” meaning tree, “taur”(yes, again)/”tawar” meaning forest, and several other tree species are named using those roots, so I don’t know which would be the roots for the words tree and forest in Westron. I kind of have the idea that hobbits say “toz” to refer not only to a “bush” but also colloquially for “wilderness”, so maybe there is a more formal way to say forest (the way you’ll call the Old Forest, for example, “Brûntaur” in Sindarin maybe? Maybe tûh would work for forest in formal Westron, Zâratûh for Old Forest?), but it is colloquially “the bush” for unspecified or unnamed forest or woods. “Harn” is tree maybe?
>   * Sorry my notes make less sense each time.
>   * And there, in fact, is a real mammut skeleton at [Metro Talismán ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Metro_Talism%C3%A1n)! ( [all the pictures are terrible, sorry](https://local.mx/cultura/mamut-metro-talisman/)) I haven’t seen it in person yet (because it is a bit out of the way when I visit Mexico City), but I have seen the pre-hispanic ruins at [Metro Pino Suárez](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Metro_Pino_Su%C3%A1rez)!
> 

> 
> Lots of love,  
> cuetlaxcoyotl


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